


The Amnesiac's Guide to Hyrule

by southstars



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Novelization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-09-24 07:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20354410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southstars/pseuds/southstars
Summary: A Breath of the Wild novelization focused mainly on Link's travels post-resurrection, with adaptations to story and game mechanics mostly for narrative purposes.Or, the adventures of Link's eternal road trip, wherein he tries to be a person who has feelings and memories, and a magical backpack.Oh, and a destiny to save all of Hyrule.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to J for the beta on this <3 
> 
> Characters/pairings will be updated as chapters are uploaded. Changes made most notably to the Stasis and Camera runes, glider mechanics, how and when memories hit, the Sheikah monks, the Horned Statue, and various other things. 
> 
> Alternate story title - now you're just somebody (that I used to know)

He opened his eyes with difficulty, fighting against the drowsiness of sleep that threatened to pull him under once more. There was a heaviness to his body that was hard to resist, and he shifted slowly, flexed his hands and stretched his toes, and blinked up at the neon light above him. 

A liquid sloughed away from his body and spilled from the sides of his mouth as he reflexively swallowed. It was tasteless, without warmth or chill, and as the last of it slipped away into the golden-gilded drains along the side of the tub, it was like the liquid hadn't been there at all. 

Where...was he? 

A hot thread of panic ripped through him and he gasped out loud, as if breathing for the first time. 

Where was he, and _who_ was he? 

He realized he wasn't restrained, and swung his legs over the edge of the tub to sit upright. His head spun with the sudden movement, and he sat still until the room settled around him. He took a moment to pat himself down, looking for clues or hints — anything that would jog his clouded memory. 

He wore only a dark pair of shorts that fit to his body like a second skin, and his hair was tied back at the nape of his neck. He touched at the small metal hoops that were pierced through each earlobe, but there was no pain there, like he had had them for a while. 

His body was scarred, all over, but most heavily in places like his hands and forearms, and a strange pattern of small tears across his chest. He felt nothing when he looked at the healed scars, and found no other significant markings he could see. 

The room was next to be examined, and he hopped down from where he was seated. Turning first to the tub, he discovered a low drawer built into the bottom that contained a bundle of wadded up clothing. Some of it was bright blue and carefully embroidered, but an alarming portion was cut up and stiff with what looked like dried blood. The clothing couldn't be salvaged, but he found a pocketed belt made of leather that was still workable under his thumbs. When he tentatively put it on, it fit his waist perfectly. 

If he assumed the clothing had been his, it meant that he had likely been very injured when he arrived...wherever he was. It left him feeling uneasy and disoriented, and vaguely unsure of his safety. 

A soft chirrup drew his attention to a pedestal beside the tub, where a tablet sat slotted into place. An eye symbol was carved into the top of the tablet, and when he looked around the room, he saw the symbol repeated on the walls and decorative carving. The tablet chirped again, and he shuffled closer, the few paces needed to examine the device. 

After a moment's hesitation, he pulled it free from the slot. 

The frame that had held the tablet spiralled away and the pedestal went dark in lieu of a pulse of light that raced down its sides. The pulse lit a path along the floor to a doorway on the opposite side of the room, its neon blue glow reflecting off the walls and ceiling. 

The tablet chirped a third time, and he turned it over in his hands. The smooth glass lit up against his palms and flashed briefly. Symbols lined up one after another, scrolling down one side and then the other, before they too cleared away. A new stack of symbols fell into neat rows, until the screen was filled from top to bottom. 

At first they didn't mean anything to him, they were just shapes and squiggles, but then something snapped into place in the back of his mind and suddenly he understood. 

_Link,_ the text read: 

> _ I don't know if you will ever see this, but Purah tells me not to lose hope in the Shrine of Resurrection. I believe that the technology works, in theory, but please understand…it's been so long. _
> 
> _I've made the decision to seal the shrine until your return. For your safety, and hopefully for the safety of Hyrule. As before, the Sheikah slate will be able to open the doors for you – you are not trapped. _
> 
> _When you wake, leave this place and come find me at Kakariko. I will tell you all I know. _
> 
> _Please, if you can, hurry. _

The last line was a signature. The name _Impa_. 

He read through the letter a few times before he settled his fingertips over the glyphs that spelled out his name – or what he assumed to be his. The name settled inside him like the language had, slotted neatly into what was once an empty space. 

_Link_. His name was Link, he was sure of it. 

As promised by the note, the door opened with a touch of the slate at another pedestal. Sunlight burst in as the door lifted, bringing in heat and dust, and a sting to his eyes as he sheltered them from the light. The door shuddered to a stop, and it was a few minutes before his eyes adjusted and he could move out into the hall. The stairs leading out were broken in places, and he climbed to the top with ease he didn't expect. 

Link stepped out into the long grass, his bare feet quiet in the hot soil around him. The sun pressed down on him like a blessing for crawling out of the neon-lit cave, and he tipped his head up to accept it, squinting at the freeform wisps of clouds in the otherwise perfectly blue sky. 

The Shrine of Resurrection was buried near the edge of a cliff. A forest stretched out beneath it, to a line of stone ramparts framing another dropoff to terrain beyond what could be seen. In the distance a castle loomed, clouded with smoke and outlined by the eerie red edges of a waning afternoon sun. 

A crackle of fire made Link look to one side, where a worn stone path wound down the side of the cliff edge. Under a rock outcropping, a man was seated at a campfire, looking in Link's direction. Behind him was another stone ruin, with a high steeple tower that was falling to pieces. 

_Come find me at Kakariko,_ the note said. 

Link didn't know where Kakariko was, or how to get there, but he had a strong feeling the man could help him find his way. 


	2. The Great Plateau

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to J, for editing my verb tenses, among other things <3

"Hello there," the man said as Link approached. He held a walking stick topped with a hanging, unlit lantern between his palms, and everything about him felt old and grey, especially against the burnt-umber colouring of the hooded jerkin he wore. 

He indicated the space across from him at the fire, apparently unmoved by Link's hesitance or lack of proper clothing. "Are you hungry? It would please me to have company." Apples on a spit were rotating over the flames, along with a variety of mushrooms Link could see grew in the grass around them. 

Inexplicably, Link trusted the old man. He felt right to obey the unspoken request in the old man's offer, to drop down on his heels and settle in the warmed dirt near the fire's edge. "Thank you," he murmured belatedly. He cleared his throat lightly, startled by the unrecognizable voice that had passed over his lips. 

"Well met," the old man said. His voice was deep and resonant, and it commanded all of Link's attention with ease. "It's rather unusual to see another soul in these parts." 

Link didn't know how to explain his presence in the shrine, so simply decided to avoid the subject. He asked instead, "Have you been here long?" 

"Me? I'll spare you my life's story." The old man made a tutting sound between his teeth and reached over to turn the food on the spit. "I'm just an old fool who has lived here alone for quite some time now." 

Something about the way that the old man also avoided answering made Link suspect that they both had secrets they wished to keep. Link felt slightly better about voicing his next strange question of, "Where are we?" 

As if it wasn’t strange at all, the old man nodded and swept an arm out to one side. "This is the Great Plateau," he said. "According to legend, this is the birthplace of the entire kingdom of Hyrule." He pointed to the crumbling structure behind him. "That temple there, long ago it was the site of many sacred ceremonies. Ever since the decline of the kingdom one hundred years ago, it has sat abandoned in a state of decay." 

The old man's mouth twisted, looking rueful. "Yet another forgotten entity. A mere ghost of its former self." There was pain in his words, and bitterness that shone in the clear blue of his eyes, but Link couldn't sense any maliciousness in what the old man wasn't saying out loud. 

Link looked to the temple instead, and watched a group of white birds gathered along the roof tiles. They basked in the sun and then scattered, startled away by some noise in the distance. 

In the quiet of the campfire, Link thought the old man might continue, but he seemed to have reached the extent of his thoughts on the ruined temple. At length, the old man waved a hand at the food sizzling gently between them. "Go ahead, young one," he sighed. "I've spoiled my appetite, I fear." 

The apples were crisp and dusted with sweet seasoning, and they broke apart with a satisfying crunch between Link's fingers when he pulled them from the fire. Hunger roared to life at the taste, and Link found himself through his third piece before he realized it, looking puzzled at the suddenly empty spit in front of him. 

"Sorry," Link mumbled, wiping errant juice from the sticky flush of his mouth. 

When Link looked up, however, the old man was smiling at him again, the corners of his eyes drawn up into a curtain of wrinkles. "You have a healthy hunger. Have the rest, I truly don't mind." 

Link started to decline, but ended being betrayed by his stomach's loud growl, heard easily over the crackle of the fire. "Er," Link said at length, as the old man laughed out loud. "Well, thank you." The old man passed a waterskin over and waved at the roasted mushrooms, and they sat in comfortable silence as Link made short work of the rest of the prepared food. 

The plateau was quiet, hushed with the rush of wind through the grass and the gentle sway of the trees as they brushed against one another. It was beautiful, but it made Link's thoughts return to the urgency in Impa's letter, and the press of emptiness that was his memories. Once he finished the last of the mushroom skewers, he stood up with the intention to thank his host and continue on. 

"Wait a moment," the old man said immediately, halting Link's retreat. "There are monsters here — I cannot in good conscience let you go without offering aid." 

Link hesitated. "I—" 

"Please. Humour an old man?" He offered a smile that somehow put Link at ease, and then twisted away to reach for a backpack leaning against the cliff wall behind him. When he turned back, he offered the entire pack to Link, without even considering the contents. "There's an abandoned hut, past the temple," he said, "south of the ruins where the birch trees grow. Take whatever you need and stay as long as you wish. The owner hasn't been back for quite some time." 

It was easier to accept items that were no longer claimed by anyone, Link discovered. "Thank you," he said, and tossed the backpack into place over his bare shoulders. Though the old man had already given so much, Link made himself ask, "Do you know the way to Kakariko from here?" 

The old man eyed him discreetly, but eventually nodded once. "Yes, however...it is not a journey you should take lightly. And, pardon me, perhaps not in one's current state of undress." He nodded at Link's bare chest, bare feet, and then indicated the temple behind him. "Go to the hut, gather clothing and supplies for your trip. When you're ready, come find me by the smoke of my campfire, and I will tell you what you need to know." 

A restlessness in Link's belly curled tighter for a sharp moment, but released when he admitted silently to himself that the old man was right. On top of the many things he couldn't remember, he also didn't know what he would meet on the road, be it environmental, monsters, or other travellers. 

The old man was still patiently waiting for a response. Link mentally shook himself and felt his mouth uptick slightly at one corner in an effort at a smile. "My name is Link," he offered at length, since he was without anything else of value to give to the old man as thanks. "I'll return soon." 

The old man smiled again, with the campfire light catching as a glint in his friendly eyes. "Excellent. Do try to get some rest, Link. I look forward to seeing you again." 

\- 

Daylight was starting to fade by the time Link found himself at a broken fountain directly downhill from the ruined temple. He paused to look up at it, taking in the broken windows and collapsed walls, and the scattering of birds’ nests made in the eaves. He supposed it had been a grand sight, once, when the steeple had been in one piece, and the coloured glass had been washed and maintained. Looking at it now, swarmed with the strange urn-shaped statues, Link only felt dread. 

He decided to climb the next set of crumbling stairs to examine one of the statues blocking the front of the temple. The statue was out of place for the temple, but had the same gilded carvings as the shrine he'd woken up in, though these were dull and weather-worn from time out in the elements. Long spindly arms reached out ahead of the statue, with pincers open to grab something long gone. Link couldn't tell if the statues were depicting anything in particular, but the feeling conveyed was clear: danger and threat. And though they were lifeless, Link couldn't help but try to stay quiet, like the statues were watching him. 

He inched past the statue, careful not to touch it, and crouched down under a raised leg to pass into the temple. Nature had long since claimed the interior, with grass and moss crawling across the floor and vines draping from the tall window frames. The stairs at the front of the room still led to a small altar space, and a surprisingly clear platform at the foot of a giant statue. This statue was smooth and featureless, in the shape of a woman in prayer, wings stretched out behind her. A circle of miniature duplicates were set in a ring around the base, their facial features just as indistinct. 

When Link was halfway to the altar, the statues began glowing with a pale green light. 

_"Come closer, child."_

The voice settled over Link with a wash of clarity. He knelt on the smooth stone platform and watched the light glitter around him in soft swirls, as if he were the eye of a gentle storm. A tightness in his chest relaxed, helping Link breathe easier. He hadn't realized how much tension his body was holding until he closed his eyes and let his muscles relax one by one. 

Eventually, the voice spoke again. 

_"How quiet your thoughts are, hero,"_ it said. It sounded impossibly like rushing water, and fire, and the rustling of leaves, all at once. _"Do you know to whom you speak?"_

Link shook his head, then reconsidered and murmured, "I'm sorry. I don't remember much." 

He felt a peculiar touch on the back of his neck that slipped up to the top of his head, like someone had placed their hand on his hair. _"Ah, of course. This is the consequence you've paid to remain in this life. I fear this will be a setback you may not be able to afford."_

"Who am I?" Link asked. Then, because she seemed to know, "What happened to me?" 

The voice sighed, and the light brightened around Link. _"Instead, know this: your soul is one of a hero eternal. The path you walk is never easy, but it is just and right. Seek to do good, to learn from the world, and even without your memories, you will never be led astray."_

The answer wasn't as informative as Link had hoped for. He shifted with uncertainty and tried asking, "Why was I saved?" 

_"To save the people of Hyrule,"_ the voice answered gently._ "This is your destiny, and your burden. Even now, you feel this purpose in the very fibre of your being, do you not?"_

The restlessness and drive to find answers were things Link had assumed were side effects of his lost memories. But if information was all he wanted, he could have stayed with the old man at the campfire and asked him more than directions to Kakariko. The impulse to keep moving on suddenly made more sense. 

"Yes," Link said slowly, "I feel it." Now that he was aware, Link recognized it as the same instinct that had led him to enter the ruined temple. 

_"Very good,"_ the voice said approvingly. _"I can amplify your being, as I have in the past. For now, follow the old man's guidance."_

The touch of a hand upon Link's head faded, and then the light around the statue dimmed away. He was left on his knees in the temple, his heartbeat quiet and steady in his ears. He had even more questions than answers, but at least he felt calmer and more sure of himself. The interaction with the voice had balanced something in him, and Link no longer felt pulled around by some unknown force. 

When it felt appropriate, he stood from his vigil. He took one last look at the statue leaning over him, and then turned to leave the temple. 

Link retraced his steps back to the cracked fountain and looked out at the forest covering the rest of the area downhill from the old man's fire. Old and sturdy oak trees covered this part of the plateau, with winding trunks that sometimes crawled the gaps between one stone and the next. Squirrels and birds darted across the path into the forest, and the thump of galloping footsteps suggested that there was larger game to be found, if one were to venture in. Link was tempted, pulled by his curiosity, but straying into the oaks would be going opposite of the route that the old man had laid out for him. 

With a shake of his head, Link turned away. There were monsters in the area, the old man had said. He could always come back and walk the broken path through the trees another time. He was out of sunlight, and didn't feel it was wise to push his luck. 

Next to the forest was a plain expanse that once must have been a promenade or city square. The stone path widened, still framed by broken pillars, and swirled down to another gathering of the strange urn statues. They clustered together in a pool of dark water, spindly arms reaching around sunken pillars and through archways. 

Link shuddered and turned away from this too. He followed the path opposite the pool, where a landslide had overtaken the rest of the square. Smaller pools formed in the dirt there, with reeds and frogs, and a family of ducks lazily swimming in circles around each other. Link could see more ruins in the distance, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another strange structure. 

Half-buried in a cavelike spill of rubble, an archway and pedestal shone dully in the light. It looked almost identical to the entrance of the Shrine of Resurrection, and when Link approached, even the same style of gilding wound up large arches buried in the rock. A path of neon blue outlined a narrow square divot on the pedestal face. 

Link took the strange tablet from his belt and let it slot into place, watching it spin into the slot. 

For a moment there was silence, but then orange light burst beneath the tablet, followed by neon blue that raced down the pedestal and lit the floor below Link. The ground began to shake. Rocks and boulders around Link jostled free from around the arches above him, and a bone-deep _crack_ echoed in the ground below. 

Suddenly, with enough force to stagger Link forward into the center of the pedestal, the platform shuddered and broke free from the earth, bursting through its rock cover. It raised into the sky with alarming speed, taller than the ruins surrounding it, taller than the nearby broken ramparts, and even taller than the temple, higher on the hill. 

Eventually the tower shook to a stop, and Link looked up in time to see sections of the archways above him grind themselves into a secondary position out of view. Blue light washed up around the edges of the platform and swirled up to the peak of the tower before silently fading away. 

Link had a moment to find his footing and he unsteadily peeled himself out of his panicked grip on the pedestal. A pillar above the console had lit with the wash of light, and was still shining blue with rapidly scrolling white text. A chiming sequence began playing while a drop of pure blue light collected on the lowest tip of the ceiling pillar. 

"Distilling local information," a neutral voice said, coming from the pedestal. The chiming built in sequence, repeating a note higher and higher until the light droplet finally fell free, falling onto the screen of the tablet below it. The tablet flashed, and as Link leaned forward to examine it, the pedestal declared, "Regional map extracted." 

The tablet spun out of the slot into Link's waiting hand, and he examined the lit screen curiously. What was once filled with black static now showed a map of the Great Plateau area, complete with topographical heights and surrounding landmarks. The point where Link was at showed a small figure, and a triangle marker that a legend on the side of the screen described as “Tower.” There was a different marker for the Shrine of Resurrection, which gave Link an idea of how far he had travelled since waking up. 

A new rumble in the distance drew Link's attention, and he put the slate back on his belt. From the top of the tower, there was a clear vantage point of the entire plateau. The ruins he had seen on foot looked small from the new height, and now Link could see the grove of birch trees he'd been searching for, just beyond a skull-shaped structure. 

Most upsetting, however, was the view of the land beyond the giant crumbling wall that encircled the entire plateau. Where Link would have expected to see a mountain or hillside leading to the plain below, there was nothing but a sheer drop. The distance was so high he couldn't see through the mist to where, exactly, the field began. To make matters worse, in either direction as far as he could see, the entire plateau was isolated in the same way. 

"What now?" Link murmured to himself, feeling dizzy. He couldn't tell if it was a delayed reaction to waking up in the Shrine, his conversation with a statue, or his sudden adventure on a rising tower. All of it together was starting to feel overwhelming. 

He stepped away from the edge of the tower platform and sank down to sit on his heels. With no clear path down from the plateau and no wings to carry him, how was he expected to even leave the area? How was he supposed to get to Kakariko Village? How would he find out who he was and what happened? 

Link pressed his face to the tops of his knees and sucked a few quick breaths through his teeth. His chest was too tight, like his heart was trying to break out of his chest just as the tower had cracked the earth. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't— 

_"Link…"_

_**"Link…"**_

He gasped, looking around him wildly, before locating a bright point of light from a castle in the distance. It hadn't been there a moment before. Link shuddered through a ragged breath and then another, until his eyes were stinging from staring into the light and the bursting feeling in his chest had eased. 

"Who are you?" Link asked, trembling. "How can I—" 

_"Link, try to remember," _the voice said. It was different than the woman's voice from the temple statue — younger, strained with the effort of reaching out to him. _"You've been asleep for the past one hundred years…"_

"A century," Link said, feeling that panicky tightness at the back of his throat, threatening to rise again. 

The woman continued quickly, sounding rushed. _"When the beast regains its true powers, this world will face its end…"_

"What beast?" Link whispered, getting to his feet. The rumbling in the distance sounded again, and Link squinted toward the castle and the shining light. Great pillars of a sickly magenta were starting to glow around the castle, oozing dark matter and bloodred flares of smoke. The light dimmed and then came back stronger, and Link heard the woman's voice one last time. 

_"My strength is waning, Link. Please, before it's too late…"_

Then he was left alone once more, staring out at the castle. It no longer looked like a simple ruin, but something more sinister, a creature waiting to swallow him whole. 

And, if the voice was to be believed, swallow _everything_ whole. 

"I…" Link muttered to no one in particular, "I need a minute." He rubbed a hand over his face and dropped down to sit with his back against the tower’s pedestal. He watched the last of the sunset fade on the horizon, thinking on the woman's words, and quietly reminded himself how to breathe. 

\- 

After a few false starts, Link managed to find his footing and investigate the edges of the tower platform. A narrow shaft at the core of the tower led down to a series of declining mini-platforms that wound clockwise to the ground. Link climbed down the first two levels, using the center grate as a ladder, and then dropped to the third with a single jump. He grew more confident with his descent when he found that It was fairly easy to hop down from one platform to the next, with one hand out to the tower core for balance. 

Part of the way down, Link realized he was in trouble. The sudden activation of the tower had drawn attention, and in the shallow pools surrounding the base, a group of monsters were gathering to inspect it. They were strange creatures, with piglike snouts and leathery red skin, carrying an eclectic mix of weapons and shields. 

Link, in his underwear and backpack, crouched behind the edge of a platform railing, and considered his options. If he waited a little longer, he could potentially sneak past the monsters, as long as he was quiet and fast. But he was unarmed, and if he was spotted... 

One of the creatures was looping closer to Link, waving a lit torch around to show more of the tower. Link eased back on his small platform and shifted a piece of rubble out of his way, moving the rock to give himself more cover. 

A small puff of leaves burst in Link's face, followed by a rattle of hollow reeds Link automatically flinched away from. A small creature appeared in front of Link, waving a stick excitedly. Link bit down on the inside of his cheek, strangling his startled sound. 

"Aha!" the small creature said loudly. "You found me!" What Link initially thought were dark eyes were actually tears in the leaf the creature was using for a mask. Its skin had the same texture as wood, and was otherwise featureless. If it hadn't been giggling, shaking its stick at Link, he might have mistaken it for a log. "Wait…" the creature said slowly. "Who are you?" 

Down on the ground, one of the monsters paused and sniffed in their direction. 

"Shh," Link hissed urgently, ducking down deeper in the shadow of the railing. "They'll hear you." 

"Nuh-uh!" the creature said. It paused, and then seemed to reconsider. "Well, I mean, I didn't know your kind could see children of the forest either, so maybe you're right." It shuffled closer to Link and peeked out between the railing swirls at the monsters below them. "Oh, oh, are you playing hide-and-seek with the bokoblins?" 

Link eyed the monsters — the bokoblins — around the edge of the creature's mask. It smelled strongly of the forest, of sap and sweet bark. "I'm trying to get to the birches without them seeing me." 

"Hee, okay!" The creature danced in place, almost smacking Link in the face with its stick. "Can I play? I want to play!" 

The noise the creature was making didn't seem to be attracting the bokoblins, which Link started to think could work in his favour. "Sure," he whispered to the creature. "Can you lead them the other way?" 

The creature wiggled himself around to face Link again. "Yeah! Koroks are good at games! Hee!" 

In the next moment, the creature (the Korok?) disappeared with another burst of leaves and rattling wood. Across the pools of water, Link saw it reappear, floating in midair with its stick raised above its head. It dropped an acorn into the water with a loud _plop_ and immediately drew the attention of the bokoblins surrounding it. They didn't seem to see the Korok, and when it threw another acorn into a pool farther away, they investigated as a group, walking obliviously underneath the floating creature. 

"See!" the Korok called out to Link. It waved one short arm, unconcerned about how it made itself swing from side to side. 

Link waved back silently, wary of drawing the bokoblins’ attention back where he didn’t want it. The Korok kept leading the bokoblins farther and farther away, and Link finished his descent to the bottom of the tower undiscovered. He stayed low to the ground and headed immediately for the ruins, where he kept tight to the outside edge of the perimeter. Link didn't chance actually going into the ruins, because even from the outside, he could see the fallen walls had a mazelike quality. 

The next obstacle was the skull-shaped structure on the other size of the ruins. Judging from the tracks around the small lookout tower and all along the muddy paths, the skull was the bokoblins’ main hideout. A campfire inside lit the edges of several rusty weapons that had been stuck into the dirt — a few swords, a discarded shield, all left unattended when the entire group had gone to investigate the tower. 

The prospect of gathering weapons was almost too good to pass up, but Link didn't trust the silence inside the skull, and couldn't explain why. He eased through the main entrance quietly, only to freeze midstep when a line of glowing eyes blinked open in the shadows along the ceiling. 

_That's why,_ Link thought. He wasn't sure if getting the rusted gear was worth the risk of a fight — especially if the group of bokoblins returned to investigate the noise. He would be blocked inside, potentially hurt, potentially still unarmed. Link looked at the trash that was scattered around, his bare feet flexing when he saw jutting bones and broken pieces of metal in the dirt. 

Not worth it. He backed out of the hideout and watched the glowing eyes blink shut one by one until he was completely outside. He circled along the side of the skull until he was back on track, and picked up into a half-jog through a narrow path between a stone wall and the cliff's edge. 

Night had truly fallen by the time he reached the birches, and the forest was as quiet as the ruins had been. The forest floor alternated between soft grass and moss, and shallow pools of water where butterflies rested on sparse reeds. He felt safe among the trees, comforted by the soft coos and fluttering of nesting birds. There was distant moonlight above the canopy to guide his way, but fireflies rose from the green around him, and their floating trails lit a wandering path through the white-and-black trunks. 

Just when Link was starting to wonder if he’d missed the cabin, it folded out of the trees in front of him. It was a single storey, made of cut logs on a stone base, and a small chimney that poked out of the roof, only slightly taller than the highest beam. Still wary of the encounter in the bokoblin hideout, Link did a careful circle of the building to ensure it was truly empty. 

When he was satisfied that the old man had been truthful and that the cabin looked long abandoned, Link swept the inch-thick cobwebs off the front door with the point of a stick and went inside. Next to the door was an oil lamp that still worked when Link twisted its pin. 

The cabin boasted a single space, with a dusty table and chairs in the centre. A few cabinets and shelves lined the walls, and tucked into the corner by the fireplace was a bedframe woven with tree bark and straw. A journal lay open on the table, but the pages crumbled under Link's touch, and the letters written there were too faded to make out. 

A search of the cabinets produced a mixture of clothing and cookware — a frying pan still seasoned with oil, bowls and cups, cooking spoons and measures. For clothing, he found a range of sizes, and managed to cobble together an outfit of linen trousers (a few inches too short), linen shirt (patched at the elbows and tattered on the hem), leather boots (a touch too large) and a down doublet (a little billowy, but comfortable and warm). 

He pocketed a sewing kit and a small cooking knife, as well as two small foraging pouches. The pouches still had dried herbs in them, but they were stale and crumbled, too old for use. He added everything worth keeping to his backpack, wherein Link discovered the old man had gifted him a torch and firestarting kit, along with a small set of medicine and bandages. 

Link checked the latches on the windows and door, and twisted the oil lamp off before going to the bark mattress in the corner. He stretched out on it with a sigh, using his backpack as a pillow, and blinked up into the darkness. 

His time since waking up had been…strange, and packed with information that he barely knew what to do with. He could choose to disregard what he'd been told, by the old man and both the mysterious female voices, but that would leave him in an even more uncertain position. 

Since he had nothing else to go on and no other leads, his only option was to follow the guidance provided, as vague as it was. He needed to sleep, and then collect food and water for his journey. He also needed a weapon, as his close encounter with the bokoblins demonstrated, and the promised directions from the old man to Kakariko. 

It helped to have a set list of tasks to accomplish, for a sense of accomplishment as well as a distraction from the troubling gap in his memory. He could feel familiarity pulling at him at every turn, and Link suspected—hoped, really—it meant that he'd regain his memories in time. 

He just hoped that when he remembered who he was, it was someone he would like to be. 

Link let the thought go, and turned on his side with his eyes closed. _Sleep,_ he thought to himself, with a mental shake of his head. With or without his former knowledge, he would make his own decisions and find a path through his new life. 

That would have to be enough. 

\--- 

He dreamed of a city crowded with people, and the rabble of townspeople going about their days in the square. Fresh bread and smoked meats stocked the displays of a bakery, filling the morning air with fragrance that made his belly rumble. He dreamed of his footsteps echoing on the clean stone of the cobbled street, and the sound of water being drawn from the well for the day's laundry. 

He dreamed of a town shining bright with life and sound, and felt the bursting love in his heart for the place he called home. 

Then the dream faded away.


	3. The Sheikah Slate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to J for removing all my extra uses of 'that' and 'edge'. 
> 
> New tags - Sheikah Monks, Owa Daim, Implied Character Death

Link woke with the sunrise and the sound of intermittent, off-key whistling through the trees. He dressed in his newly acquired clothing and shouldered his pack, appreciating the increased weight at his back that made him feel more protected, then stepped out of the cabin to find the old man seated with a cookpot nearby, already poking at the beginnings of a stew. 

"Good morning, young one," the old man called out to him. Link raised a hand in greeting. "Forgive the intrusion." He indicated the cookpot and explained, "This is little else than mushrooms and water at this point, and the boar in these trees are many." 

As he approached, Link spotted the rough-cut bow laid against the log at the old man's side. "You're hunting?" 

"Indeed," the old man said. He dropped a large cutting of green herb into the pot and started picking apart another section of the same plant. "Would you care to join me?" he offered. "Smoked boar meat would make good rations for your journey." He tossed the herb into the pot and then slid his gaze past Link, to the hut. "Did you find much worth saving, if I may ask?" 

"More than I had," Link told him, and the old man nodded with satisfaction. 

Link stretched his arms above his head and twisted at the waist while he considered the trees around them. If he could find a bow of his own, it would make a good addition to his preparations, but first he needed to know if he could handle one. At the very least, he could carve a simple iteration out of wood until he came across something stronger, similar to what the old man had. 

"I'll hunt with you," he decided. 

"Excellent!" The old man finished slicing a radish into the stew and covered the pot with a wooden lid. He pulled himself to his feet with a grunt, and left his walking stick and lantern where they lay by the fire. Link left his pack, but tucked the cooking knife he’d found into the top of his boot, just in case. 

Together, they walked out into the trees, slow and watchful. The old man half crouched and Link mimicked him, feeling comfortable in shadowing him. Butterflies moved lazily out of their way, and a family of small red lizards watched their progress, tongues flicking out to taste the air. Fat white birds hopped in groups through the shallow ponds, and would have made a good meal, but Link and the old man passed by in favour of their larger target. 

The old man settled by the base of a birch tree and turned to glance back at Link. Ahead of them was a dark-red boar with its nose to the ground, snuffling at something in the grass. It was a good size, well fed and calm, unaware of their presence. 

Link settled on his heels, a few paces back in the brush, while the old man carefully raised his bow. Then, after a pause of consideration, he twisted and pressed the weapon into Link's hands. 

Something bloomed to the surface of his memories when Link curled his fingers around the grip. He watched his hands adjust, the angle of his wrist going flat and strong. He knew just how to draw the string back in one smooth motion until it was in line just below his eye. 

"Well, well," the old man murmured, his gaze clear and sharp on Link. He offered the quiver and then nodded, silently shifting out of the way. 

A breeze rippled across the water of the nearby pond and rustled the leaves hanging from the branches around them. Link adjusted his aim for the wind, for the distance to the boar, and held a slow breath between his lips. He set an arrow to the string and let it fly, preparing another one before he could see if he needed it. 

The shot hit true, punching in through one side of the boar's chest and out the opposite. The boar whined, and wheezed, and took off limping into the trees, hindered by the arrow blocking one leg. Link and the old man moved forward together, swift in following the blood trail, and tracked the boar to where it had stopped, quickly bleeding out. 

"Well done!" the old man said. He shook his head when Link offered the bow back, and refused to take the quiver. "Keep it. I've another at my camp, and you're certainly capable enough to use it." 

They carried the boar back to the cabin, where the old man showed Link how to clean and gut the carcass before harvesting the useful parts. The lessons had a very distinct feeling of déjà vu Link was starting to get used to, and he fell into a familiar rhythm while putting a large chunk of meat into the stewpot. The rest of the meat was hung up on wood racks beneath a lean-to, ready for smoking. 

"It'll be ready for the morning, I wager," the old man said, once they were seated at the fire together. "You can take all you wish—it was your hunt, after all." 

"That's very generous," Link said slowly. 

The old man looked over at him, his brow furrowing. He hummed for a moment and then asked, "Does that worry you?" 

Link chewed briefly on the inside of his cheek, uncertain. It wasn't worry that rested heavily in his chest, but he couldn't put a name to the feeling. "You've done nothing but help me since we met," he tried to explain, "and I don't have anything to offer in return." 

The old man relaxed, waving away Link's concern with a shake of his head. "There's honour in helping those in need, young one. To do good is a reward in itself." Link's skepticism must have shown on his face, because the old man sighed. "Oh fine, if you must ease your conscience, cut down a tree or two for firewood. My back aches from all that crouching." 

Being given a task immediately propelled Link to his feet. He he liked the idea of working for his good fortune; he wasn't sure he believed in the idea of luck, but it made him uneasy to rely on its appearance. 

He took up the axe that was resting near the hut’s brazier and set out into the trees. He eyed the height of the birches and kept walking until he felt the risk of dropping a tree into their camp was low—the last thing he wanted was to drop a heavy trunk onto the old man, or the hut. 

Or the _stew_, which was a possibility his empty stomach mourned the most 

Link found a tree he felt comfortable going up against and hefted the axe in both hands. The axe had an uneven weight to it, and Link gave it a few practice swings to get used to the heaviness of the blade head. After one last look around for any obstacles, Link made a strong horizontal strike to one side of the tree trunk. He tugged the axe free and felt his body automatically adjust for a second strike, this time making a pie wedge-shaped notch out of the first cut. 

It wasn't enough to bring the tree down, so Link immediately went for a third chop, this time from the opposite side, cutting along the same horizontal line as the first. He repeated the same cut several times, until the core of the tree started to give away, cracking loudly. He backed up quickly and watched as the tree tipped toward the side with the notch, cracking again. Its own weight carried the tree to the ground, shaking the earth and colliding with enough force to send up a cloud of dirt and underbrush. 

Link caught his breath as the tree settled and wildlife scattered away around him, into other hiding places. Clearly it wasn't his first time felling a tree, and his body remembered what his mind couldn't—just like with the bow. The feeling was unsettling, but useful; there was a touch of reassurance in knowing that he wouldn't have to completely relearn everything that he had known before. 

He set to breaking the tree down into firewood, stripping the small branches and limbs into a pile. With his journey in mind, he also collected strips of bark that would be useful to start a tinderbox. The main column of the tree took longer to get through, with Link chopping away at a single spot for minutes at a time. 

Eventually, when the tree was a pile of lopsidedly stacked wood, he filled his arms with as much as he could carry and returned to the campfire. He wasn't all that surprised when the old man wouldn't take the axe back, on the grounds that it was “on its last legs anyway.” He added it to the growing collection of the old man's donations, still too grateful to refuse the help. 

The lid was off the stewpot when Link sat down, and it cast a tantalizing air of meat and spices that made Link's mouth water. He watched the old man add a slurry of flour and broth to thicken the stew, and after a few moments, declared it ready. He spooned the food into large bowls for the two of them and passed one to Link, adding a chunk of bread on top for dipping. Link dug in eagerly, and they ate together to the sound of the pot still bubbling away. 

After Link had gone through one portion and poured himself a second bowl, the old man casually cleared his throat. "Did you see the tower?" he asked. "That one, and others, erupted across the land yesterday afternoon, one after another. It's almost as if a long-dormant power has awakened suddenly." 

Link eyed the old man, who was watching him with an expression too innocent for Link to fully believe. He slowly chewed through a large chunk of radish before replying, "You know it was me. You don't have to pretend." 

The old man looked startled, which pushed him into a loud guffaw. "So direct!" he chuckled, stroking his fingers through his beard and looking pleased. "Forgive me, I don't mean to be coy." 

Link relented in favour of considering what the voice at the top of the tower had said to him about the beast. Since the old man seemed to know what had happened without being told, Link asked, "What lives in the castle? There's something trapped there, right?" 

All the good humour drained from the old man's expression almost immediately. "Yes," he said quietly, a muscle in his cheek flexing, just above the edge of his beard. "That is Calamity Ganon. That _vile_ entity brought the kingdom of Hyrule to ruin. It appeared suddenly and destroyed everything in its path." He leaned forward to set his bowl to the side of the fire, like the subject had chased his appetite away. "So many innocent lives were needlessly lost in its wake." 

Link frowned, stirring the remains of his own food. The old man spoke with such feeling, it was like he had seen the destruction firsthand. "Is Calamity Ganon the only one in the castle?" 

The old man looked up at Link sharply, his gaze questioning. "For a century, the very symbol of our kingdom, Hyrule Castle, has managed to contain that evil. But just barely. Few dare to approach the castle grounds. Why do you ask?" 

For a moment, Link considered not telling him. It probably sounded very odd that Link was hearing the voices of strange women wherever he went, let alone that they were from sources either across the land or in the echoes of his mind. He couldn't even be sure that they were real, now that he was thinking about it—or, if they _were_ real, that they weren't just memories from a time long past. 

"Young one?" the old man prompted gently, making Link look up at him. "Are you all right?" 

Link shifted the bowl between his palms, eyes going back to watching the lazy drift of the stew from brim to brim. Having eaten the vegetables and meat, he only had a vague reflection of his own face to watch. "When I was at the top of the tower, I heard a voice." 

"A voice, you say?" There was no judgement in the old man's voice, just like when Link had asked where they were, mostly naked on the Shrine of Resurrection's path. "Did you happen to recognize this mysterious voice?" 

There had been a familiarity to it, but there was a familiarity to most things Link found himself encountering. "I'm not sure," he decided. 

The old man hummed to himself. "Well then, that is a shame…What did the voice say to you?" 

"That she couldn't hold the beast back much longer." 

"I see." The old man's gaze turned inward, and his posture changed slightly. He hadn't been slouching against the log before, but now his shoulders straightened, his chest lifting as he breathed in deeply. Link ducked his head instinctively, without quite knowing why. "I must ask you, courageous one, do you intend on making your way to the castle?" 

Link kept his head bowed, eyes on his hands, curled around his bowl. He unintentionally slipped into the same formal way of speaking that the old man favoured and said, " I must go to Kakariko first. But...I believe so, yes." 

The old man nodded and murmured, "I had a feeling you would say that." He reached out for his own bowl, and the moment between them burst, tension fizzling away into the air. Link slumped back against the log and tipped his stew back to drink the rest of the broth, while the old man spooned himself a serving to warm his up. 

By the time the old man spoke next, it was as if the strange interaction had never happened. "How do you intend on leaving the plateau? We are surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs." 

Link still didn't have a solution for the cliffs, but he caught sight of a familiar roguish slant to the old man's mouth. With a half smile of his own, he said wryly, "Well, old man. I suspect you have some ideas for that." 

This time it was the old man who ducked his head, grin mostly hidden in his beard. "Ah, you see through me again. I can't help but notice the Sheikah Slate on your hip." He nodded at the cliffside visible above the birches, past where Link had gone to chop down a tree. "Do you see the shrine up there? It began glowing at the exact moment those towers rose up from the ground. Perhaps what you did to wake the tower will also open the doors to the shrine." 

\- 

Link examined the Sheikah Slate as he walked, poking at the buttons and tapping on the clear screen when it responded to his touch. He watched the indicator that marked his location and studied how it moved, what it looked like when he went over different pieces of terrain. Whatever the tower had seen of the local region seemed to be literal, in that areas covered in trees or overhanging land masked whatever was below. It was like looking at a painting from a bird's height, captured at a single moment in flight. 

There was a narrow ravine at the southernmost part of the birches, too wide for Link to make in a single jump. When he peered over the edge, he was greeted by the familiar misty fog of the plateau dropoff, meaning falling wasn't something he wanted to risk. He could go around, but the high peaks of the cliffs would force him to backtrack to the temple and then hope for a path along the snow-covered peak. 

Link paced the side of the ravine, considering his options. Could he somehow bridge the gap? It seemed within reason to be able to throw something to the opposite side, but how would he anchor it? A rope on an arrow was a possibility, but it wouldn't hold his weight. He needed something closer to an actual bridge, like wood or stone— 

An idea came to him, and he looked at the trees near the edge of the cliff. They were all tall enough to bridge the gap, and strong enough to hold his weight, if the effort of making one into firewood had been any indication. Link looked for the tree closest to the cliff edge and hefted his axe. 

Once again, he settled into the process of felling the tree. He chopped a wedge into the side facing the opposite cliff, and then hacked straight across from the side opposite. The tree started to crack, then tip, and then it toppled over on its side, dropping mostly flat over the ravine gap. The impact echoed down the ravine walls and back, and reverberated through the trees. Confused yips and snorting of bokoblins sounded near the cliffside. 

Link settled the axe back into the strap between his shoulders and nudged at the end of the log on his side of the ravine. It remained still under his boot, and held his weight when Link stepped up fully. With a deep breath, he walked out along the length of the log, stepping carefully around the branches and knots in the bark. Being over the gap was dizzying, like being at the top of the tower had been, but Link felt a little rush of excitement, a thrill making him smile to himself as he moved. 

It was almost over too quick when he hopped down on the other side of the gap, safe and sound. He turned to look back at the birch forest he'd come from and basked in the new sense of accomplishment from finding a solution on his own. He hadn't needed a voice to tell him what to do, or the old man to make veiled hints—he'd been faced with a problem and solved it. 

A screech sounded behind him, followed by a rush of footsteps. All feelings of victory fled and he spun, tearing the axe from its holster and hefting it two-handed in front of him. A pair of bokoblins were charging him, one armed with a wooden spear, the other with a club and rusty metal shield. A third hung back in the trees, struggling to uproot scattered arrows that had been stuck point-in to the ground. 

There was no time for thought. Link dodged to one side to avoid the stab of the wooden spear and brought his axe into an upswing at the other bokoblin. It bounced off the shield and Link reversed the slice, tearing the bokoblin's guard away. He dodged the other one’s spear again, skipping back, but immediately pushed forward into a jump, solidly burying his axe into the chest of the unguarded bokoblin. 

The one with the spear screamed as its companion went down dead. Link let the axe slip from his fingers and lunged for the club, barely getting out of the way as an arrow whizzed past his shoulder. The third bokoblin had managed to get his bow ready, and was taking shots at Link when it could. 

Link snatched up the shield from the dead bokoblin's limp hand and backed up to keep the trees between himself and the archer. He focused on the bokoblin with the spear and pressed his attack, using the shield to knock the spear aside and throw the bokoblin off balance. He followed up with an overhead strike with the club, and another horizontal smash to the face that sent the bokoblin to the ground. 

An arrow buried into the tree trunk next to Link's head. He brought his shield up to deflect the next arrow and kept it there while he turned fast on the archer. The bokoblin yelped and backed away, unsuccessfully trying to get a shot in on Link. It turned to put some distance between them and Link dashed forward, clubbing it in the back of the skull. The bokoblin went down in a spray of blood and lay still. 

Link gasped a breath, coming back to himself. His body was thrumming with adrenaline and overwarm from the sudden exertion. He'd hoped for_ some_ familiarity with weapons, but this was different than knowing how to hold a bow. His body remembered the flow of battle, how to defend and attack, how and when to choose targets and change gear. 

His hands were so steady. 

He knew then, deep down, that he was built for fighting. Whatever role he'd had one hundred years previous, he had been a soldier, through and through. The woman trapped in the castle didn't need help restraining the beast she was confining. She needed Link to kill it. 

The realization of his role felt heavy, but right. The weight was almost comforting, like the axe resting between his shoulders, or the shield in place on his arm. He wondered if he should have felt more regret over killing the bokoblins, but couldn't find a reason to feel guilty when he had been attacked first. 

Was this who he really was—someone who rationalized violence under the banner of self-defence? 

He breathed out sharply and shook his head, setting the questions aside with the rest of the things he didn't know. It didn't give him any comfort to constantly wonder after who he'd been, and wondering certainly didn't bring any memories back. All he could do was keep going, and find out the truth as he went along. 

He slid the rusted shield over his back and wrenched his axe out of the dead bokoblin's body. He quickly used dirt to clean the blood off the weapons and then returned them to the clips on his belt. The rest of the gear he left with the bodies, and then continued on to the base of the cliff. 

The ground wrapping around the far side of the cliff hid a worn area where the bokoblins had been camping, but tapered off into the wall without yielding a path upward. This meant there wasn't an obvious way to make his way to the peak in either direction. He pocketed a handful of apples from an open food box at the bokoblins’ camp and ate one while he walked back to where he'd crossed over the ravine. 

Fortunately, the fight had given Link a better idea of his physical strength. When he looked up at the cliff wall, he could see a series of natural ledges. All he would have to do is climb from one ledge to the next, and there would always be a moment for him to catch his breath. 

Additionally, if he could climb up the cliff, then maybe he would be able to climb down the plateau's misty edge. 

It took some experimenting to get started, seeing which angles of rock were better for holding on to and which were too smooth to keep his grip. It was easier to find footholds, but Link could imagine even that would be better if he had a lighter shoe, or a boot that wasn't as loose at the toe. He dropped down the foot he'd climbed and tied his boot laces tighter around his ankles before starting again. 

Initial progress was slow, but Link was determined. He alternated between moving one hand and one foot, double-checking the juts of rock to make sure they would hold his weight. Eventually he reached the first ledge, maybe eight feet up, and hauled himself onto it to sit and rest. 

Link flexed his hands as he caught his breath, stretching out muscles that were already sore. The climb was hard, he admitted to himself, but not impossible if he took it a little at a time. He readjusted his weapons and then, with a deep breath, returned to climbing. 

He diligently stopped at each flat ledge to rest, to double-check his equipment was still secured, and to stretch out when his muscles started to cramp. He also took sips of water at each stop, and carefully dried his hands when they started getting too sweaty. 

Eventually, the dizziness of the height overtook the impulse to admire the view, and Link started taking his rests facing the cliff wall. It became a loop of reach, look for a handhold, look for a foothold, lever himself upward, and begin again. Repeat until there was a ledge, lean against the cool rock until his heartbeat slowed, and then climb again. 

Link pulled himself over a new ledge, like he had so many times before, and reached out to find the wall. 

But there was no wall. 

Link looked up, pierced by panic, and discovered he had done it. He was at the top of the cliff, and a few feet away from him, a glowing blue shrine was silent and waiting. 

"Ah, finally," Link groaned, hauling himself onto the summit. He was up high enough that the ground was covered in a light brush of snow, and Link gratefully let himself drop face-first into it. The snow felt like a blessing against his flushed face and hands that were hot with overstimulation. 

Once he’d cooled down, Link had a quick snack of water and an apple while he considered the shrine. The curving architecture matched the tower and the resurrection shrine, and Link could guess what the flat-topped pedestal to one side was meant to do. He'd barely tapped the Sheikah Slate to the surface when the shrine's lighting went from orange to blue, and the wall of Sheikah text opened in front of him. A platform of stone waited inside, glowing faintly with lines of flickering light. 

When Link stepped onto the platform inside the shrine shell, the light rose around him and the platform sank down into the floor. A cover slipped into place above him, and for a moment, all was dark. 

The ride down was just shy of claustrophobic, with Link penned in by the narrow stone shaft and the humming barrier of light that encircled him a few inches tighter. The barrier was solid against Link's fingertips, and without any controls to halt or hurry his progress, he was at the mercy of the shrine until it stopped. He might have wondered if he was moving at all, if not for the way his inner ear popped suddenly, marking how deep the tunnel had gone. 

Eventually the rock gave way to open air, and Link was given a brief overhead view of a large, well-lit chamber. Ledges of varying heights were set up around the room, and large gilded fans blew strong air currents in various directions, as indicated by narrow ribbons tied to the fans’ grates. 

The elevator came to a stop on a small dais, and the light shaft around Link faded into nothing. He stepped off the platform and approached the most prominent feature of the room: a raised balcony, where a man was enclosed in a glowing box. A roof overhead was connected to the high ceiling, and the bed the man was seated on reminded Link uncomfortably of his own he'd woken up in at the resurrection shrine. 

"Hello?" Link asked. He stopped just short of the balcony's edge, where two small steps led to the railing. The man didn't respond, still bowed beneath the brim of his large straw hat. He was dressed simply in linen trousers, with gold bangles up and down both arms. 

A symbol pulsed into view over the light barrier in front of Link. It was the eye that marked all Sheikah technology, with the tear drop below and the three triangles in an arch above. When it stayed visible, Link reached up and delicately touched the center of it with his fingertips. 

Instead of remaining solid as the elevator barrier had, the light surrounding the balcony brightened and then burst outward. Shards of light and thin lines of ancient Hylian scattered into the air and then twinkled out of sight. 

Link, who had flinched in anticipation of being struck, looked back up in time to see the man stir. The brim of his hat lifted, and Link was faced with an old man whose hair was a pale white and eyes were a dark muddy red. The Sheikah eye was tattooed into his forehead, stretching from temple to temple. 

"At long last," the Sheikah man rasped, unfolding himself from his meditation seat. His beaded necklace swayed, knocking into his gold bangles that Link could then see also encircled his ankles. "The hero is before me. Calamity Ganon rises?" 

Link nodded and moved back to give the man space to leave the balcony. He moved with surprising nimbleness, swinging to the ground and landing soundlessly. Link had thought him starved, but could see up close that the man was packed with wiry muscle and little body fat. 

"Calamity Ganon is trapped in the castle," Link told him. "I've been in the Shrine of Resurrection for the last century." 

"I see," the man murmured. He examined Link at length, eyes tracing the edges of Link's face as if he could see beyond Link's outward appearance. "You've lost your memory, and your strength." After a pause, where he peered behind Link, he added, "And the Sword." 

"Sword?" Link repeated, but his query was ignored. 

The Sheikah man smiled then, noticing the slate hanging from Link's belt. "Ah, but that's a start," he said. "Come with me." 

He waved Link along and started off into the maze of platforms, turning confidently between the sections in a pattern that was too quick for Link to keep track of. He moved silently, walking with his weight on the balls of his feet, and Link felt loud in comparison even though his boots could barely be heard over the roar of the fans. 

The Sheikah turned to glance at Link, who jerked his gaze up at being caught studying the old man's pace. "My name is Owa Daim, hero," he said, as if he could feel Link's curiosity. "I am a monk who has been blessed with the sight of the Goddess Hylia." 

In the next corridor, they entered what looked like a workspace. A desk was overflowing with papers, each covered in text or complex designs. A small, disused cot was pushed into the corner with a cooking pot and unlit brazier. Link recognized the pedestal set into place at the end of the hall—it was almost identical to the one that had been at the top of the plateau tower. 

"How long have you been down here?" Link asked. He didn't see any evidence of fresh food or water, or any other indication that the living space was more than a temporary study. If not for the bright lighting, he might have thought the area abandoned. 

Owa Daim shook his head and waved one hand dismissively. "It matters not. I've dedicated my life to helping those who seek to defeat Ganon. However, if _you_ stand before me, then my duty is near its end." They came to a stop in front of the pedestal. It pulsed slowly with blue light, offering up an empty slot that was carved in distinct flowing lines. 

"Here," Owa Daim said. "Place your slate into the guidance stone." 

Link did as asked, and watched the slate spin into place. The guidance stone flashed with light, and a neutral voice droned, "Analyzing...Please wait." An abrupt chiming sound echoed, and a line of orange text scrolled down the pillar above the pedestal. "Error," the voice said. "Applications corrupt. Please reinstall." 

"What does that mean?" Link asked. He thought that he had never lost his sense of speaking, but the phrases that the pedestal was using had no particular meaning to him. 

Owa Daim was watching the scroll of text above them, his eyes darting from row to row of the seemingly endless symbols. He hummed thoughtfully, a small frown curving the corner of his mouth. "It seems like most of this slate's functionality has been lost." He made a startled noise. "Goodness, it was last patched almost ten thousand years ago? That can't be correct." 

Considering he was someone who had been in a century-long healing state, Link silently decided he probably wouldn't have been surprised by any number of years the guidance stone could have stated. One hundred years had the same significance as ten thousand, in that he hadn't been present for either span of time. 

"Can it be fixed?" 

"I imagine so," Owa Daim said. He reached up to tap at the scrolling symbols, activating a few in an order that changed the flow of text around them. "But that is not my area of expertise. I can only offer you the rune I was working on for my trial. I'll set Soaris to distill for you." 

"Trial?" Link recognized the climbing notes that meant the guidance stone was collecting information to transfer to the slate, like the plateau tower had collected the area map. The rest of what the monk had said, however, didn't make much sense. "Wait, what's Soaris? Did you _make_ all this?" 

Owa Daim turned away from the console to look at Link. He blinked unevenly, as if coming out of his own thoughts, and didn't acknowledge Link's questions. Link wasn't even sure he'd heard them. "Hm. Tell me, is Sheikah technology widespread?" 

"I literally do not know," Link said, annoyed. Owa Daim raised an eyebrow at him, and Link breathed out hard. Interacting with people who had knowledge they wouldn't share was starting to get on his nerves. 

Mustering what was left of his patience, he explained, "Everything seems buried. The towers were underground until I activated one." 

If Owa Daim was offended at Link's frustration, he didn't show it. He seemed more concerned by what Link had told him. "Underground? Then the teleport system has been dormant as well. If you intend on making use of it, you'll have to manually reset each of the fifteen towers." 

A blue drop of light splashed down onto the slate, and the guidance stone declared, "Rune distilled. Installation complete." 

Owa Daim took the slate from the pedestal when the guidance stone spun open. The slate looked different when the monk held it; his hands were sure and familiar with the device, fingertips precise when he tapped on the screen. He activated the glass and swept to one side to show the map. 

"Damn," Owa Daim sighed. Link stepped closer to watch the screen as he worked. "Because the towers were dormant, the whole travel map system has been wiped. See this indicator?" 

"That's where we are," Link said, familiar with the small icon that always showed the slate's location. 

"Correct.” Owa Daim made a motion with his fingertips against the glass that enlarged the local map. "Every shrine and tower across Hyrule has a teleport pad above ground. Your slate allows you to teleport instantly to any of these locations by using this map." He tapped the separate blue icon next to the slate indicator, and a box of text popped up. It listed Owa Daim's name, followed by the subtitle Soaris—Paraglider Trial. Beneath that was a button labelled Warp To. 

Owa Daim tapped outside of the box, which let it disappear from the screen. "Some have clever names for their trails, but I never found one I liked. Here you are." He handed the slate back to Link. "Were it the peak of my day, each tower could easily be reset, and each shrine registered by the monk residing there." 

Link guessed, "But the rest are sleeping, like you were?" 

"In stasis," Owa Daim corrected, "but yes. We collectively sealed ourselves away so we could assist you. It was foreseen that the hero would need our power to defeat Ganon." He indicated that Link follow him again, and together they started back through the corridor to the beginning of the platform maze. "You must be strong enough to defeat Ganon. The trials, the runes we have crafted for you, they will help you grow mentally and physically. Spiritual strength will come with guidance from a priestess, or Hylia herself." 

Link didn't know how he could ever become as powerful as the malevolent beast that required an entire castle to entrap it. Owa Daim’s belief that he would, however, was so resolute that he spoke as if it were fact. It was easy to lean into that faith and trust that the monks would show him the way. 

"Runes?" he prompted. 

Owa Daim nodded, taking to the subject easily. They'd returned to the front of the shrine, where the stasis balcony and entrance to the fan arena waited for them. He turned to face Link, indicating for him to look at the slate once more. "Runes are functions added to your slate. They can be selected and used manually on the tablet, or through gesture signals after activating the screen. It's all written down here, when you tap the rune." He swiped the screen for Link and revealed a new menu of square buttons. Most were blank, but Owa Daim tapped on the square with a feather symbol, bringing up the information for the Soaris rune. 

"Soaris, for example, produces a means to ride the wind. As illustrated, the gesture for activation is thus." Owa Daim curled his hands into loose fists and then brought them up above his head, as if he were holding on to something. "To deactivate, decisively break the gesture or use the vocal command, ‘Slate—Cancel.’ Understand?" 

Link nodded, looking at the information that explained the rune usage exactly as Owa Daim had described. It was still a foreign concept to picture, but he guessed it would become clearer once he used the rune for himself. Activating and deactivating seemed to be set up for easy use, but Link could see how, "Switching between runes must get tricky." 

"Doing so quickly, yes." Still, Owa Daim didn't seem concerned by the concept. "Purely using gesture activation requires practice, but you will undoubtedly see plenty of that. Now, when you're ready, my trial awaits." 

Link looked to the nearby arena and recalled the dozens of fans that he had seen while riding down in the shrine elevator. "What's my goal?" 

Owa Daim nodded, looking satisfied with Link's decision to start the trial immediately. "Use Soaris to reach the far platform," he said. "Then retrieve the banner and bring it to me." Instructions finished, Owa Daim returned to his stasis chamber, and seated himself as Link had found him—cross-legged and mediating. 

Link went to the edge of the wall and examined the arena. The path to the banner seemed straightforward. He touched at the screen of the Sheikah Slate, back in place at his hip, and brought his hands up above him in two loose fists. A swirl of blue light rose around his hands and blossomed out into a tight canopy above him, folding itself into the shape of a glider. The handles solidified under Link's grip, suggesting that though the transparent light had substance, it impossibly had little actual weight. 

He took a deep breath and, with slight trepidation, stepped into the air above the first fan. 

Wind from the fan buffeted him upward, sending him spiraling toward the ceiling. He yelped, and then laughed, floating gently on the airstream. In seconds, he had risen a third of the distance he'd climbed on the cliff to reach the shrine. 

From his current height, the path to the banner was clear. He carefully tilted the glider and let the wind nudge him from one fan to the next. When he reached the outside wall, a vertically mounted fan pushed him into landing on a platform. The stop gave him a moment to break the Soaris rune and shake out his arms. He caught his breath, reactivated the rune, and then repositioned himself to make the next leap. 

The following series of fans pushed Link higher and higher in the room, helping him to carve a lazy path around to the far side of the goal platform. A horizontal fan pushed him into landing once more, and Link was left standing in front of the banner, emblazoned with the crimson Sheikah eye. 

Link tugged the banner off its anchoring pegs and then stumbled, pushed to the side by the wall fan suddenly revving to a higher setting. He tried to regain his balance, but the tips of his boots slipped from the edge of the platform and he went toppling over into midair. 

The fans around the room collectively grew louder and stronger, throwing both Link and the banner into swirling currents that moved them apart from one another. In seconds, Link's quiver emptied out and his arrows spread into the wind, going off in every direction. 

It took him longer to recover than he was pleased with, and even longer to bring both hands together in the activation gesture for Soaris. Having the glider out gave him a way to angle through the currents, and he rode a looping airstream around the room, buzzing with adrenaline. 

The banner flicked by, a twisted streak of crimson and white. It ripped up toward the ceiling and then dived, at the mercy of the fans. 

Link gave chase as best as he could, growing more confident with the glider as he learned to maneuver with his shoulders instead of his wrists. He followed the banner up and down, but frustratingly couldn't overtake it. Relying on the glider meant that he had to follow the wind as well, pushed and pulled as the fans pleased. 

He dropped down to the starting platform for a rest and watched the banner race about without him. He had to mimic the banner's flexibility to get the same control, he realized. The glider was the banner spread and billowing, but he had to be the banner twisted and narrow. 

He took to the air with renewed determination, and let himself be carried as high as the fans were able. When the banner drew near, he let the glider rune break and dropped through the air, arms to his sides. It gave him the profile and speed needed to cut through the current, diving after the banner. When the banner went horizontal, Link did too, throwing his arms and legs out wide to give the wind surface to push against. He coasted long enough for the banner to start rising again, and then brought his hands up to activate Soaris with a snap. 

The glider pushed up against the banner, the Sheikah eye blurry through the rune's transparency. Link quickly let the rune go, snatched up the banner when it was within reach, and then held on tightly. He wadded the banner between his teeth as he started falling and activated his glider again, angling to get out of the fans as quickly as he could. 

He tumbled onto the starting platform and rolled off the edge to the room beyond, where Owa Daim was waiting. The fans in the arena dimmed and then stopped, and the arrows carried from Link's quiver went clattering to the arena floor. 

Owa Daim studied Link from his seat, looking surprised. "Inelegant, but task accomplished, I suppose. You needn't have rushed." 

"Is there a way to do that slowly?" Link asked, breathless. He stood and folded the banner between his palms before offering it to the monk. 

"Perhaps it's for the best," Owa Daim said thoughtfully. He took the banner and set it to one side, leaning over to look at Link. "The calamity won't give you a moment's respite, but be warned, it will surely take advantage of your haste." He waved a hand at Link. "How do you feel?" 

"Exhausted," Link said honestly, probably with a touch too much feeling. "But it was fun?" 

"'It was fun,’" Owa Daim repeated to himself, sighing. "Hero, do you see the purpose of trials?" 

If Link had been given the rune and then set out into the world without testing it, he would have been much less eager to step off a platform into midair. He also wouldn't have had practice with the glider condensed into one action-packed session—he would have had to take longer to learn what he did in one trail. 

Confidently, he said, "It's putting theory to practice." 

Owa Daim nodded, offering a smile. "Often lessons are best learned the hard way, as you've undoubtedly discovered. Seek out as many shrines as you can, let them challenge you to do better and be more. Now, have you any further questions of me?" 

Link always had questions, always had things he didn't know or didn't understand, but for once, he felt like he was walking away from a conversation with more answers than questions. "I've learned...quite a lot from you," he said gratefully. "Thank you for your help." 

Owa Daim inclined his head slightly, and a moment of silence passed between them. The monk breathed out slowly, and then indicated that Link should come closer to the stasis chamber. "It would seem that my duty has been fulfilled. In parting, accept my last gift. In the name of the Goddess Hylia, allow me to bestow my spirit upon you." 

Link sucked in a surprised breath when a glow of violet light pulsed at the centre of Owa Daim's chest. "Wait," he said. "What do you mean?" 

The light grew stronger, and Owa Daim bowed his head, his eyes shutting as he focused inward. "You will need spiritual power to withstand Calamity Ganon. Elsewhere, you will find someone to teach you how to stand in the center of such power without losing yourself." 

Link felt a shock shiver down the back of his throat and lodge itself somewhere in the pit of his belly. "But surrendering your spirit, doesn't that mean you'll…" 

"Yes," Owa Daim said gently. He was almost too bright to look at now, and his expression was open and serene. "Please, hero. Accept it and obliterate the Calamity." 

The monk bowed his head and pressed his fingertips together before him, concentrating. Something in the space between them _vibrated_, and an orb of violet light lifted from the centre of Owa Daim's body. It floated across to Link and burst into streams of bright light against his chest. The light absorbed into him, and he felt a burn of energy and vigor settle into place under his skin. 

Owa Daim smiled, his posture going limp. "May the goddess smile on you," he murmured. His body lit with pale green flames, and started fading away in pieces. 

Then the stasis chamber was empty, and Link was alone. 

\- 

It was late afternoon when Link glided down from the cliffside shrine. His feet skimmed the tops of the birch trees, and he angled himself easily through the canopy into a soft landing. After the Soaris trial, floating from one point to another was simple, and he could swear that it was easier to bear his own weight dangling from the glider. He wasn't even winded when dropped down in his previously held seat at the campfire in front of the abandoned hut. 

The old man, seated exactly where Link had left him, smiled in acknowledgment. "So," he said. "You've found a way off the plateau, have you?" 

The old man didn't sound surprised, and Link squinted at him, trying to read past his innocent expression. "Did you know about the monk in the shrine?" 

"Oho, leave an old man his secrets." The old man hummed to himself, leaning forward to slide another log into the fire. "Long ago," he said, with the air of someone telling a story, "a highly advanced tribe known as the Sheikah inhabited these lands. The great power of their wisdom saved this kingdom time and time again. But their ancient technology disappeared a long time ago, or so it is said." He hummed again, and nodded toward Link. "It has been quite some time since I have seen that Sheikah Slate." 

"This particular one?" Link asked, a little too sharply. 

The old man didn't seem to notice Link's tone. He continued, "It is interesting to think how something like that has lasted all this time, hidden in a shrine. These shrines are tucked away in numerous places across this land. On this plateau alone, I believe there are still three more. If what you found in the first one was helpful, perhaps you may find something equally as valuable in the rest." 

Link sighed. In the shrine, he had received answers, but it seemed that on the plateau itself, he was still bound to follow the vague advice of unnamed people. "I'm grateful for your help, old man," he said, also as a reminder to himself to reign in his shortening patience. 

Three shrines. He wondered who—or what—would await him there.


End file.
